Thir-Team Meeting Part Two

Nance, I could give a rat's ass if this fruitbat gave his flippin' large intestine to a Double-Dutch team if they were one jump rope short of a good time...he's been harassin' me for the better part of two damn decades. Here...let me read you a little something from this 'fan letter' he sent me: "If you could autograph the bowl I've enclosed with this note it would make this Niners fan eternally grateful." Listen, people...first off he ain't no damn Niners fan...and secondly it was no damn BOWL he sent to me to autograph...it was a freakin' codpiece. And check this bit out from the same letter: "The bowl will gain a place of honor in my home and, besides being a kickass memento, it will also pull double-duty as the vessel in which I serve my homemade French Onion Dip when I have dinner parties." The fuck is this shit? French Onion Dip served out of a codpiece? Larry Blackmon hopped up on goofballs wouldn't ever pull something as weird as this shit...and that guy knows his way around codpieces. This so-called 'fan' even telegrammed my agent (that's right...flippin' Western Union) wondering if I "taste better after a game," implying that my sweat would make an outstanding seasoning and, if in fact I *did* have an improved flavor, would I consider selling it during games for fans to salt their 'wieners' with. My agent and I were convinced he meant 'wieners' euphemistically...dirty fucker. Ergo: No fucking way is this guy getting a nod from me. T